


Sastiel/Mishalecki Tumblr Anthology

by shinigami_yumi



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alpha Sam, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Assassin Castiel, Blood Drinking, Crazy Castiel, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Ficlet Collection, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Bond, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Not Beta Read, Omega Castiel, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Some Humor, Stoner Castiel, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:09:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinigami_yumi/pseuds/shinigami_yumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An archive of the random ficlets I wrote on Tumblr. I'll keep adding to this as I write more.</p><p>Now tagged for searchability. Just remember that each tag might only be relevant for one ficlet/chapter.</p><p>There's a little bit of everything (and a lot of porn), so I'll just put mini summaries or descriptions at the top of each one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prayers I Can't Define

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-s8, Sam and Cas resume their relationship, but it feels different now that Cas is human.
> 
> Please [click here](http://card.weibo.com/article/h5/s#cid=1001603938091109880806&from=&wm=&ip=10.13.113.155) for the Chinese translation of this story, courtesy of tszman.

Castiel doesn't have the strength he used to, but Sam is always so gentle, it's like nothing's changed.

Sam still looks at him with such awe, still breathes his name with such reverence, but it feels different now. More intense. Or less, perhaps, depending on one's perspective.

He can't quite sense Sam's soul anymore, but Sam's caress now feels like sparks along his skin. Sometimes, when they're near, he gets a strange feeling inside, like he wants something he can't define. It seems demeaning to call it lust, overly simplistic to call it attraction, too physical to call it love.

He does love Sam though.

Sam who kisses his attempted apologies into silence, who always places his hands so precisely between Castiel's shoulder blades, as if he can still feel the wings that once were there, who understands so much more than the whispered words or desperate touches can convey.

When Sam is beside him, he doesn't dream.

Sometimes, when he comes in for the night, Sam holds out his arms, and he no longer hesitates to close the distance between them. He twines his fingers in Sam's soft, long hair and lets Sam undress him. Sam mouths at his skin, cradles his body and sucks hard, and every touch is like an act of worship, every pleasured moan a prayer.

Sam loves to prepare him with his tongue, to hold his legs apart and open him slowly till he can't think straight, till his thoughts run into blasphemy. And though they started before things broke, Sam still asks if he's allowed, still worries he hasn't earned his place, still thanks Castiel as he takes them both as close to the Heaven Cas remembers from his fledgling days as living humans can get.

"It's less than you deserve," he finally says once.

And Sam only replies, "Nonsense. I have you."


	2. When I Wake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-s8, a mute Castiel takes care of a feverish Sam.
> 
> Please [click here](http://weibo.com/p/1001603978695357399021) for the Chinese translation of this story, courtesy of tszman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An old friend had a headcanon that when Cas lost his Grace under Metatron's spell, he also lost his voice.  
> I suggested she write a "The Little Mermaid" AU. But this little ficlet goes out to her.

Castiel pushes damp brown hair out of Sam's face. It is warm, too warm, where his fingers brush Sam's forehead, and he reaches for the cloth in the basin of iced water on the nightstand. He wrings and folds it before placing it back over Sam's brow. He fists his hands in the sweat-damp sheets, feeling helpless.

Once, he could have made Sam better with just a touch.

Now... Now, he's powerless, useless as "a baby in a trench coat," as Dean would say.

It was Sam who insisted on looking for him.

He knew from the missed calls, from the condition Sam was in when the brothers finally found him by activating the GPS on the phone he still doesn't really know how to use. Dean would have tried everything to keep his baby brother in bed and stayed to take care of him; anything else could wait.  Sam, in pain, feverish and barely conscious, wouldn't rest until they'd found him, and when he collapsed in Castiel's arms at last, Cas was certain he hadn't imagined the resentment in Dean's green eyes.

And all he can do now is sit here and intermittently cool the cloth in the basin again, watch Sam sleep restlessly in the throes of fever, add how fragile the once strong and beautiful hunter looks to his growing list of regrets. He bows his head.

Sometimes, it feels like he's done little but fail Sam Winchester.

A large hand covers his own and squeezes. He looks up. Sam is awake. It's been five days since he was last conscious.

"How long have I been out?"

Cas holds up five fingers, and Sam smiles weakly.

"And you've been taking care of me all this time? Thank you, Cas."

He shakes his head, covering Sam's hand with his own, and there are so many things he wants to say, but he can't articulate a single one. He tries to apologize, but even if he could say the words, Sam doesn't let him. Sam's already pulling him down by the tie for a kiss just like they used to. Before he broke everything.

Before he broke Sam.

He should get Dean, tell him Sam's awake, but instead, he lets Sam guide him under the blanket so they're lying side by side, presses his lips to every inch of Sam's face because he doesn't know how else to convey how much he cherishes this, cherishes Sam.

Sam smiles — he understands, he always does; he understands, and he forgives, and they don't need any words. He runs his fingers through Castiel's hair, blinking wearily.

"I'm still so tired, Cas," he murmurs. "I think I'll be asleep again soon. Will you be here when I wake up?"

Cas nods. Of course. _Of course._ He wraps his arms tightly around Sam as the hunter drifts off to sleep once more.

He'll never leave Sam again.


	3. The GISHWHES Not-A-Helpdesk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared distracts Misha from the billions of people calling or texting him.
> 
> Please [click here](http://weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309403979902834615016) for the Chinese translation by tszman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of you have probably heard that Misha gave out a phone number for people to call or text in with questions about GISHWHES. Cue hordes of fans calling or texting mostly not about GISHWHES at all. Feel free to visit the Misha Collins tag on Tumblr for their adventures.
> 
> At some point, [idreamofdean posts that "Someone needs to take the internet away from Misha Collins before he hurts himself."](http://idreamofdean.tumblr.com/post/56899795756/someone-needs-to-take-the-internet-away-from-misha) [mishoverlord promptly nominates Jared Padalecki.](http://mishoverlord.tumblr.com/post/56987545634/idreamofdean-someone-needs-to-take-the-internet)
> 
> I, of course, can't resist such a timely excuse for Mishalecki (porn) staring me in the face, so I ended up writing this, incorporating some of the anecdotes I'd heard so far.

Jared groans as the phone rings for what seems like the nine thousandth time. “Why did you ever think this was a good idea?" he asks as soon as Misha hangs up.

"Come now, Jared, [we tweeted about this](http://messiahbrother.tumblr.com/post/56916004105/you-liar)," Misha replies without turning as he picks up the next call.

Jared swings his long legs off Misha’s equivalent of a couch and heads over to where Misha is sitting by the computer, reading texts on his phone, and Jared is pretty sure the only reason it isn’t ringing again is because all the calls coming in at exactly the same time jammed each other. “Can we talk about the mountain of fanmail you have waiting—"

"But this is more fun!" Misha interrupts gleefully as he comes up behind him. “I mean, [look at Tumblr](http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/misha%20collins)." He points excitedly at the screen. “Let me just… ow!"

["NO, MISHA!" Jared says sternly, rapping his knuckles lightly on Misha’s head.](http://media.tumblr.com/8c84fd85488f417b0a7a19c613245351/tumblr_inline_mqrxivtAX61qz4rgp.gif)

"Hey!" Misha protests as he spins Misha’s chair around to face him, but then the phone rings again before Misha can say anything more or even start on whatever message he had been planning on typing, and he rolls his eyes with an amused grin as Misha tells the caller to [order a single bowl of only pinto beans and guacamole](http://elijah-is-sportin-wood.tumblr.com/post/56903121233/okay-so-my-friend-actually-got-misha-on-the-phone).

"Seriously?" he mouths.

Misha nods with an excited grin, then whispers in a woeful voice, “I thought I trusted you."

He manages to muffle his giggles long enough for Misha to hang up before just kneeling to bury his face in Misha’s shoulder and laugh uncontrollably. “I love you," he says when he finally catches his breath.

"I know," Misha agrees, leaning in for the kiss.

The phone beeps, another text, and Misha breaks off to reach for it, but Jared beats him to it and turns it off. “Jared," he complains with a frown. He tries to get it back, but Jared immediately slips it into his back pocket.

"It’s Google Voice," Jared reasons, trailing kisses down Misha’s body through his shirt. “The voicemails get transcripted, the text messages get e-mailed, and your minions are never going to stop trying." He exhales hotly over the crotch of worn jeans and is gratified to feel the bulge there press up against his lips. “It’s already 10pm. I’ve been here all day. _You’ve_ been at this all day. Take a one-hour break." He catches Misha’s zipper between his teeth and pulls. The heady smell of precum makes him change his mind. “No, two hours. C’mon."

Misha moans, but doesn’t resist when Jared lifts his hips a little to rid him of his jeans, and God, how can he resist Jared kneeling between his legs to mouth at his cock through increasingly wet black fabric?

"Mm, you’re wearing [my favourite pair](http://31.media.tumblr.com/dd4dc597ad87d949ad6fdfddb9036717/tumblr_mpw9fjarLK1swemsfo1_500.jpg)~" Jared remarks with a giggle before pulling it off oh-so-slowly with his fucking teeth, and _oh. OH._ The monster’s lubed his fingers while Misha was distracted, and now he’s teasing in cold, wet circles around Misha’s hole. Misha jerks helplessly back onto those fingers because “Jesus fuck, Jared, you’re supposed to be giving me a break here."

He feels his colleague smile against his skin, and then those long, slick fingers are stretching him gently, and all he can do is bury his hands in Jared’s long brown hair, rub circles into the other’s scalp and twine his fingers in the soft strands to ground himself as he arches his back and whimpers every time they rub into that perfect place. Then Jared takes him into his mouth and swallows around him, and _shitshitshit_ he’s going t— He pulls Jared away.

"Damn it, Jare," he gasps, hauling his lover up for another kiss, and the taste of himself in Jared’s mouth is almost, _almost_ enough. “Now. Just. Now."

And Jared’s lips curve up against his own a moment before he’s lifted over broad shoulders, and being carried fireman-style by Jared Padalecki feels a bit like flying. Maybe he’ll have Cas ask Sam to carry him in that episode he’ll be directing.

Then they’re falling onto his bed, and Jared is on him immediately, his hands, his mouth, his skin all over Misha’s body at once like he can’t ever get enough, and Misha can certainly never get enough of this. He’s so fucking close, but he wants to come with Jared inside him so badly now. “Inside, goddammit. Now." His voice comes out almost a whine, and Jared has the gall to laugh. “Not funny." He pouts, and Jared agrees “Nope. Happy. So fucking beautiful," nipping at his lips between every word as he shucks his clothes and presses the lube into Misha’s hands.

God, he loves this. The way Jared will just hold him close tenderly and moan softly into his ear as he strokes him with a slick hand, the very thought gets him off every time, and fuck, but he can’t wait another second.

He pushes Jared back onto the bed and sheaths him in a quick motion, and Jared gasps as he bottoms out before flipping them over just as quickly to begin pounding into him like he knows exactly what Misha needs. He _always_ knows exactly what Misha needs, and Misha is screaming his name as the pleasure explodes in haloed lights. Jared curls in on him and comes as well with an utterly wrecked groan, and Jesus, it’s always so fucking intense between them. He presses a kiss to Jared’s temple and closes his eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~

He wakes to the sound of glasses clinking and stretches with a smile as Jared rejoins him on the bed and hands him one of the wine glasses he’s holding. He nestles closer into Jared’s arms and takes a sip. As good as the wine is, he’s almost sure the contentment is what’s made it his new favourite. On a corner of the bed, he spies the phone halfway out of Jared’s jeans and nudges it over with his foot.

"Really, Misha?" Jared shakes his head fondly as he turns it back on. “It’s almost midnight."

He nudges Jared in the side with his elbow. “I gave it out to answer questions. It wouldn’t be so late if you hadn’t done such an amazing job of distracting me. Now I’m going to answer some questions."

Jared chuckles and kisses the top of Misha’s head as the other begins responding to several text messages.

Suddenly, the phone rings, and Jared raises an eyebrow as Misha picks it up “hello?" before nodding approvingly as Misha points out “it’s eleven-thirty." He can just vaguely make out the caller apologizing, and Misha just turns to him with a knowing smile as he answers, "[It’s okay. I’m kind of up. Drinking some wine](http://a-joshifer-shipper.tumblr.com/post/56964907010/misha-hello-me-silently-screaming-hello-is)."

He ruffles Misha’s hair, loving how it stays an adorable mess. “Ready to sleep yet?" he asks when Misha hangs up.

Misha sighs, wrapping himself around Jared. “If you insist," he murmurs, finishing off the wine and setting the glass down on the night stand.

"No, no, you do what you want. Far be it from me to encourage you by dissenting," Jared replies, covering them both with a blanket.

Misha grins as he snuggles closer still. “I love you too."


	4. Scenting The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an A/B/O AU at war, Castiel is an assassin, and Sam is the Boy King of a rising faction who has allegedly been massacring Castiel's people and will someday destroy the world. Castiel's superiors catch wind of a rumour: the unmated Boy King has a taste for a certain profile of Omega, a profile Castiel fits perfectly. Thus, an unsuspecting Castiel is sent on a mission to kill Sam and end the war. It isn't until he's infiltrated the dinner party that he realizes he's been set up and Sam is really just Sam.
> 
> Please [click here](http://weibo.com/p/1001603981267929558528) for the Chinese translation by tszman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The A/B/O is pretty minimal, really. I'll even confess I'm more interested in the assassin/target dynamic and that the A/B/O setting is mostly a porn device.

They told him Sam Winchester would destroy the world. That he could, Castiel believes. That he would, Castiel doubts. He's not used to doubting.

They told him Sam Winchester had to die. Those were his orders. Those were his intentions. He's never disobeyed orders before.

They didn't tell him why they'd chosen him, why they didn't give him the usual supply. Most certainly, they should have warned him about the dinner party he was infiltrating, should definitely have warned him that Sam was unmated too, that he'd look at Castiel with such want, that he'd smell so perfect. It wasn't until he was dancing with his target that he realized they'd set him up.

This was no assassination. This was a seduction. They were placing him here for some purpose he wouldn't learn till later.

There was no way he could have assassinated a mark that knew he was coming and where he was from, and Sam knew. Sam _knew_. "Maybe it's something in your air, your diet, your water," he said quietly as he deftly located and discarded every concealed weapon on Castiel's person, never a pause in the dancing. "There's something about the way you smell that's distinct, that can't be found here."

And Castiel knew better than to resist in that room full of Sam's friends and followers, so he just kept dancing, letting Sam lead him through the steps. In the distance, he recognized someone, someone he never thought he'd see again — the long missing Gabriel, and beside him a blond with twinkling green eyes.

"I thought you came for me," Sam purred in his ear, hands sliding up his thighs, ass and back to find the last hidden sword, and Castiel's breath hitches. He'd never been more grateful for the dam that kept his clothes dry — he was already hard and wet, and even if he hadn't been pressed up against Sam's well-toned body, he was sure Sam could smell it on him. "So don't look at my brother, angel. He's quite happy with yours."

And then Sam kissed him.

Slid a hand down his thigh to lift his knee to Sam's hip and pull the darts out of his boot, and Castiel was completely defenseless, but it wasn't like he could think straight in the cloud of Sam's spicy, musky scent anyway. He hadn't even noticed they were by a hidden door until Sam spun him through it and half-carried him up a flight of stairs. They were alone — it was quiet, there was no one he could sense, and he could have killed Sam with his bare hands right there and then maybe, but all he did was twine his fingers in long brown hair and kiss the boy king back.

Now, on this luxurious bed, his thighs are slick from when Sam pulled the dam out, Sam's tracing patterns on his wet skin while trailing kisses down his spine, and he's never been with anyone so gentle, least of all a ruling Alpha.

"I was wondering when they'd try a different tack," Sam murmurs with a bit of a laugh. "I must say it's working."

Castiel wants to reply, but then Sam traces his hole with his tongue, and the only sound that comes out is a desperate keen. In response, Sam presses his tongue deeper in, and _ahahAH_ , no one's ever done that before. Or kissed him after. Or waited this long to bury themselves inside him, and he's never even been so willing before.

Sam's right; their setup is working, and he hates them for it.

"Your name," Sam whispers, flicking a thumb over a nipple and sending sparks shooting down. "Tell me your name."

"Castiel," he answers, meeting that olive gaze with his own, and there's such a fire in them, such desire.

Sam blinks, surprised. "This is your first assignment here?"

"Yes. No. I was here once, a very long time ago. Much has changed." And he's already failing. Falling.

Sam sighs. "They shouldn't have sent you, Cas," he says sadly, his touch impossibly gentle. He cradles Castiel to him tenderly and cups Castiel's cheek with his free hand. "They didn't even tell you anything." He shifts, finally, to settle between Castiel's knees. "When was your last...?"

"A week ago," Castiel answers honestly, wondering why it matters, why Sam of all people should care.

"Good. Good," he murmurs, and Castiel didn't realize how much he wanted it until Sam was sliding in; God, has it really been so long?

Sam shifts again, teasing a nub with his tongue and hooking Castiel's legs over his shoulders for a better angle, then he's moving, and God, "Sam," Castiel gasps. "Sam." His fingers are probably leaving bruises where they're digging into Sam's back, but every thrust hits its mark, and soon, _soon_ he's going to —

The other chuckles breathlessly. "Oh man, I hope this isn't an act."

Castiel cries out wordlessly, back arching and head tilting back in helpless pleasure, and Sam growls low in his throat. He mouths at that place on Castiel's neck, and _shitshitshit_ , Castiel isn't ready.

He isn't ready for the mere notion to nearly send him over the edge, for the way his insides clench instinctively with _need_.

But Sam only turns to kiss him behind the ear.

"Don't," Sam gasps hoarsely. "Don't do that." He sounds completely wrecked, and Castiel doesn't understand. "Fuck, you smell like Heaven," he groans, nuzzling Castiel's hair, and Castiel can't help tightening his hold on Sam, can't help burying his face in Sam's shoulder as Sam moans and rocks into him slower, harder, more intensely. "Oh. Oh Cas."

Then Sam presses his lips there, and the pleasure surges through him like lightning. "Sam!"

The other comes with a shout inside him, sinks in deep so the knot presses up against his prostate, and he shudders, spilling a little more as Sam thoughtfully flips them over so he's on top.

"Sam," he says again. "Sam." He takes the boy king's face in his hands to make him look, slides his hands down to Sam's neck, and Sam doesn't even tense. Like he's already won. Castiel thinks of his orders, his mission, and his fingers tighten around the other's throat. Sam just looks up at him sadly.

"You should have," he tells him, "so I can't."

Sam smiles wryly. He has the prettiest dimples. "If I did, you wouldn't be able to go home."

Castiel tilts his head, runs his thumbs lightly over Sam's collarbones. "I don't think they want me to come home. This is what they sent me to do."

"Are you suggesting I claim you to fulfill your duty?" Sam shakes his head. "I won't. This is a new low, even for them."

And there's that doubt again. This isn't anything like they said it would be. These aren't the eyes of a destroyer.

He slides his hands away, lays one over Sam's heart and buries the other in soft brown hair. "Did it feel like duty when you thought of it?"

Olive eyes soften. "Cas..."

"Does it feel like duty now?"

Sam's larger hand covers his own. "You don't know anything about me, anything real."

And he wants to know; he wants the truth. "I know that's the only way you can't lie," he ripostes. "And you know nothing of me either."

Sam squeezes his hand, smiling warmly. "I know enough."

He closes his eyes and leans down, and this time, Sam doesn't turn away. He wraps his arms around Castiel and sinks his teeth in, and Castiel whimpers as every nerve in his body sings. "Yes," he breathes. "Yes."

That's when it comes — the flood of thought, of feelings and memories, and God, this isn't... everything they've ever told him is wrong, wrong, _wrong_. All lies, and Sam is nothing like they say he is. They're the ones who broke this world, and now they want to purge it, so they can have it for themselves. No. _No_. All the blood on his hands to get here, and they should never have had to die.

He's shaking when Sam lets go. "I'm sorry," Sam murmurs, and why is he apologizing? He's not the one whose hands are covered in the blood of his lover's friends. Sam cups Castiel's face in his hands, wipes his thumbs across Castiel's cheeks. "They shouldn't have sent you. You didn't know."

Castiel draws in a shuddering breath. "Why didn't you kill me when I walked in the door? You knew. You always knew."

Sam laughs with such genuine mirth. "As if I could have passed you up once I'd scented you," and Castiel finds himself blushing inexplicably. "That was the plan, I'll be honest — I was going to kill you after. Right up until you looked at me with those guileless blue eyes and didn't lie about your name."

Castiel blinks, uncomprehending.

"It's a spell. I could kill you with a thought. They didn't even tell you that much."  Sam pulls out now that he can, and they settle side by side under the covers. " It's not your fault; you had no reason to believe your orders were wrong."

Castiel shakes his head. "That doesn't change what I've done. I'm sorry." He doesn't even understand how Sam could have already forgiven him.

Olive eyes brim with tenderness, and Sam grins. "Get this," he says, a little excited, a little hopeful. "No one else knows, so if you want, you can stay."

"You'd... let me choose...?" Castiel asks slowly. The Laws are absolute. He gets orders, not choices. And he has no right, no right to be here, taken in by those of blood he's spilt.

But Sam answers "It only has meaning if you choose willingly," lacing their fingers like a promise, like he already knows Castiel's answer, and by now, he probably does.

Castiel doesn't have anywhere he can go, not anymore. He curls his fingers over Sam's and nods. "I'll stay."


	5. Do You Hear The Bees A-Singing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam eats the Solidarity Sammich. Cas comes in to cuddle. The bees are singing a song of sexy times.
> 
> Please [click here](http://weibo.com/p/1001603985140576583812) for the Chinese translation by tszman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Established Sastiel, and Crazy!Cas is adorable. ♥

Sam is sitting alone in the room eating his sandwich when Cas wanders in, and he watches the angel meander around the room with a spring in his step, arms outstretched at his side like he’s balancing on a tightrope only he can see. He has a cheery grin on his face as he finally makes his way over, and Sam shifts to the side to make space for him on the bed, glad that if nothing else, whether or not he’s all there, Cas seems happy. The angel deserves that much, at least, and Sam wishes he didn’t have to be broken for that, wishes they needn’t ask him to fight with them after this.

"How is it?" Cas asks, looking down at the sandwich as he plants his cheek on Sam’s shoulder like it wasn’t forever ago that they last touched.

"It’s delicious, Cas," he answers, honest and grateful. “Thank you for travelling around the world to make it."

The angel beams up at him, settling his head on Sam’s shoulder. Sam hesitantly wraps an arm around Castiel’s waist to hug him close, and the way Cas snuggles in and sighs in contentment makes Sam regret every missed opportunity. This feels perfect. Perfect like it had been with Jess what now seems like an eternity ago.

As he finishes off the sandwich, Cas suddenly pipes up. “The bees are singing, Sam."

He blinks. “Singing?"

Cas straightens and turns to face him, looking almost gleeful. “Yes. They’re saying I should kiss you."

 _What?_ Before Sam can respond, Cas leans in and does just that, and Sam is returning the kiss long before his brain can catch up. After several moments, Cas pulls back, _giggling_ , and it’s so strange, but that’s okay. As long as Cas is happy, it’s okay.

"They sometimes have such brilliant ideas, these bees," and Cas is pushing him down to lie back on the bed, their clothes gone in a hush of displaced air. “Guess what they suggested next?"

And this feels wrong. Like he’s taking advantage. “Wait, Cas?"

Cas stills, face hovering an inch from his own. “Sam." And the blue eyes that meet his are suddenly perfectly clear, perfectly lucid. “I’ve missed you," Cas enunciates, deliberate and with such _feeling_ , and that’s all Sam will ever, _ever_ need.

He surges up to close the distance between them, crash their mouths together and flip them over so he can cradle Castiel’s body in his arms and worship him like he’s longed to do for so, so long.

"God, I’ve missed you too, Cas. _So fucking much_."

Cas moans beneath him as he mouths at every inch of skin he can reach.

"Thought I’d never see you again, don’t even know how I kept going, and as soon as you come back, you do something as stupid as take on my madness…" He laces their fingers together, burying his face in Castiel’s abdomen and drawing in a shuddering breath. “I never wanted to wake up to that," he whispers, following the fine line of hair there down with feather-light kisses. “Never deserved that. Love you so fucking much, Cas, Cas, _Cas_ …" He takes the angel into his mouth reverently, and Castiel’s quiet sounds of pleasure are worth another hundred years in the Cage. “God, Cas," he breathes, pulling off with an obscene pop. “Let me feel you inside me."

Cas just smiles serenely up at him and obliges, kisses him again and rolls them over so they switch places, traces his features with gentle fingertips as he's entered in a swift movement. He gasps at the sharp pain, and Cas bites his lip, brows furrowing in concern as they hold perfectly still.

 _This_ is real, and Cas lets him savour it, drink in the pain's reassurance for a minute, before healing him and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Then Cas is moving, the snap of his hips incongruous to the slow, adoring trail of kisses he's making down Sam's body, and Sam has to muffle his cries with the back of one hand as he wraps his legs around Castiel's waist to draw him deeper.

 _YesyesYES._ He whimpers as Castiel's lips close around a nipple, as teeth tease the sensitive nub, and he doesn't think he'll last much longer. "Cas," he moans, free hand fisting in the sheets. " _Cas._ "

Castiel's hips stutter as he comes with a muffled gasp, and the pulse of wet heat sears through Sam in white-hot ecstasy.

 _Shit,_ he thinks when he's coherent again. He probably forgot all about being quiet, and everyone outside is probably traumatized for life now.

Cas shifts, out and up to settle against his side with his chest as a pillow. There's another rush of air, and they're clean and fully dressed again. He wraps an arm around the angel, runs his fingers through surprisingly soft dark hair and loves Cas so much it fills his heart to bursting and he can hardly breathe from the intensity of the feeling. He whispers Castiel's name like a prayer, and Cas props himself up on Sam's chest by his elbows with a happy smile. Sam can't help mirroring the expression, can't help pulling Cas closer by the back of his head to press their foreheads together and wish there was some way he could convey all the tenderness he feels in this moment, but Cas just covers Sam's hands with his own and squeezes like he knows. _He knows._

"Sam," he whispers, and Sam opens his eyes to look into those blue, blue ones. "We have to go soon."

"We?" Sam repeats, dumbfounded. Earlier, Cas said he doesn't want to fight. "You're coming with?"

Cas smiles fondly, eyes brimming with resigned affection. "Of course I'll help you, Sam. You wouldn't turn me away even if it'd kill you."

Guiltily, he promises softly, "You don't have to fight. Just point out the right person for us."

Cas sighs. "Silly boy," he whispers fiercely. "Never doubt."

He doesn't elaborate, but "I know," Sam answers. " _I know._ "


	6. A Little Fall Of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of My Bloody Valentine, as Sam's withdrawing from the demon blood in the panic room, Cas gives Sam a few drops of his blood, hoping it will have a placebo effect. It does, but with unexpected consequences.
> 
> Please [click here](http://weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309403999004533875667&mod=zwenzhang) for the Chinese translation by tszman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw someone asking for this on the Sastiel tag and simply could not resist~

Castiel watches Dean head outside as Sam screams in anguish inside the panic room. He squeezes his eyes shut as Sam pleads for help from someone, _anyone_. This is his fault. It should never have come to this. _He_ let Sam out; _he_ never tried to help before it was too late. If only he’d chosen this path earlier…

"No! No, no, no. I never wanted this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."

Sam is hallucinating in his withdrawal, and if it’s anything like the last time, it won’t be long before he hurts himself. Cas heads inside. If nothing else, he can hold Sam down, keep him from being thrown violently around the room again. He sits beside Sam on the cot, wipes the sheen of cold sweat off tanned skin with a nearby towel sadly. Sam’s breaths come in shallow gasps, olive eyes darting wildly around the room, and then he’s screaming again, arching up in pain, and Castiel doesn't know what to do. He cards his fingers through Sam’s hair, and Sam curls into the touch, breathing evening out a little, but then he groans again, and Cas can’t bear it.

"What can I do, Sam?" he whispers. "How can I help you?"

He remembers waking up with a cool cloth over his eyes and Sam asleep beside him and knowing that Sam hadn't had any idea how to help, probably knew very well he couldn't help, but he'd tried, remembers Sam’s concern for him and embarrassment at having fallen asleep.

"I need it," Sam gasps desperately, looking up with unseeing, pleading eyes. "I need it, please. I wish I didn't, but I can't, _I can't_. Please. _Please._ ”

His hands fist in Castiel’s coat, and Cas can only cover those larger hands with his own helplessly.

"Oh Sam," he murmurs sadly, squeezing Sam’s hands. "I can’t. You’ll get worse. You just need to get it out of your system."

Sam doesn’t seem to hear, just writhes on the cot in agony, and Cas racks his brain, searches several millennia of knowledge and memory. There must be something. There must be some way to make this easier.

Oh.

Perhaps… Perhaps if he can trick Sam’s mind and body into believing it’s getting what it craves…

He lets his blade slip into his hand and pricks his finger on it. Maybe… Maybe this will take some of the edge off.

He presses his bleeding finger past Sam’s parted lips and gasps. He'd expected Sam to suck at the wound hard. He’s not prepared for the way Sam’s tongue curls around the digit, laps at the wound gently to make the blood trickle steadily down his throat. It’s suddenly so warm in the room, and his mouth is dry.

Olive eyes clear as Sam blinks, and soon enough, they focus on him. “Cas?” Sam’s eyes widen in alarm as he realizes what he’s doing, and he immediately stops, scooting up the cot and away. His breathing is ragged, and Cas watches as he licks his parched lips, takes in the flush to the hunter’s skin. “Oh my God, Cas, what was I…? I—I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Oh God. I—”

"Stop," Cas interrupts, letting the wound heal. "You didn’t do anything, Sam. I thought it might ease your suffering."

"Oh." Sam sighs in relief. "Oh, thank God."

"If only I could find him," Cas mutters, and Sam shifts closer.

"I’m sorry," he offers. "Thank you for trying. And for um… earlier." His eyes dart to the little bit of blood still staining the angel’s finger, and he looks… _hungry_.

Cas holds out his hand. “We shouldn’t waste it.”

Sam swallows nervously and takes the offered hand in both his own. His touch is reverent, unsure. “Are you…?”

"Yes," Cas answers, too quickly, and when did they get so close?

Sam takes the bloodstained digit back into his mouth, and Cas shivers. This is… This is new. Perhaps it’s his waning Grace — physical sensations never used to feel so real.

Sam's tongue slides hot and wet against his finger, and he's surprised to realize the whimper he hears is his own, surprised to find them suddenly a mere hair's breadth apart.

"Cas?" Sam whispers hoarsely, concerned, and Cas doesn't know what he wants, how to explain this, why they're practically sharing breath and his eyes can't help following the pink tip of Sam's tongue as it wets the other's lips.

"Sam," he breathes, and he's not sure who closes the distance between them, but suddenly, Sam's lips are on his own, and he's seen this before — it's called a kiss; he just never knew it'd be this perfect. "Sam," he says again, leaning into it, and Sam wraps warm arms around him, slips long fingers into his hair. Yes, this feels right. "Sam."

"Cas?" Sam pulls back, unsure. "Is this...?"

"Yes." He leans forward, pushing Sam down to the cot. "No. I don't know. It feels good. Kiss me again."

Sam complies without question, deeper this time, and Cas finally recognizes this as sexual arousal. It's an alien sensation. He's only ever watched, never experienced, never understood. He palms the burgeoning bulge in Sam's jeans, and the human cries out into their kiss, hips jerking up against his hand, and he wonders; he wonders if it'll be the same for him, if it should be. Sam reaches for him, then hesitates.

"May I...?"

"Yes. Anything."

Sam brushes his knuckles lightly over smooth cloth then, reverent, adoring, and a moan escapes unbidden. The hunter shifts them, flips them over and presses their hips together, and Cas bites his lip. I—It's good. He'd never known. Sam kisses him again, rocks their hips together, and the pleasure has him making these involuntary sounds into their kiss that he's never heard and can't stop, but it's like... it's too much, yet not enough, and he doesn't understand.

"Ah, Sam?" he asks when the human breaks off for air. "W—What's this?"

Sam seems to understand though because he just smiles and says, "Just let it go, Cas. I've got you. Let it go."

So he does, relaxes completely and trusts Sam, and then, suddenly, his vision whites out.

Oh. _Oh._ It's like Rapture.

He cries out as the pleasure crashes over him, hands fisting in Sam's shirt to hold on because it feels like he might drown. "Sam," he gasps. "Sam," and the other groans, melting boneless atop him. Oh, it's like that for Sam too. "Is it always like this?"

He receives a breathless chuckle, then "I guess. More or less," and no wonder they seek it; no wonder so many of his siblings Fell for it. It's... incredible.

Sam sighs, shifting to pillow his head on Castiel's chest, and that reminds the angel of how this started. He wraps his arms loosely around Sam's head. "Sleep, Sam," he murmurs, pressing his lips to Sam's temple. "It'll be better when you wake up."

The hunter nods. "Will you be here still?"

Cas considers it. "Yes," he decides. "I'll protect you."

Sam smiles again, content. "Thank you, Cas." He tilts his head up to kiss Castiel lightly on the jaw. "Thank you."


	7. Some Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In s4's The End!verse, Castiel is tripping on a new drug he's trying. Sam comes to visit.
> 
> Please [click here](http://weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309403999633440437437&mod=zwenzhang) for the Chinese translation by tszman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [whydouwantaname](http://whydouwantaname.tumblr.com) [requested fics](http://whydouwantaname.tumblr.com/post/58800329072/i-am-strangely-fascinated-with-this-gif-and) based on [this gif](http://24.media.tumblr.com/35362e3c3a2d69f7d7bdb2383a59034a/tumblr_mrub5xOCOA1rlg54so1_500.gif). Today I learned I can write fic at work and still get tomorrow's work done today, so here you go! I love stoner!Cas; how could I resist?

Cas smiles at the coloured lights all around. They’re pretty, swirling and shifting around. Like a kaleidoscope. Like flying past the stars. Like before.

"Hey," comes a soft voice, and he swipes at the lights to clear them. It doesn’t work.

He hasn’t heard this voice in a long time though. It seems like forever ago that everyone left, and the last time he heard this voice is longer ago still.

Too long ago.

"Sam~" he calls happily, reaching towards the voice he’d heard, and large warm hands take his own.

"Cas?" Sam sounds worried. "What ha—” One hand cups his cheek. “Oh Cas.” Long arms wrap around him. “What happened to you?”

"Humanity," he answers with a giggle, toying with Sam's hair. It's as long and soft as he remembers.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry."

Cas laughs, clinging tightly to Sam's larger muscular form. "It's okay, Sam. Don't be sorry. He's not here. He's not here anymore." He likes this new pill. It always gives such good, happy trips. Some nights, he even has trips like these.

"I'm sorry this ever happened to you, Cas." Sam rubs his back soothingly. His hand fits perfectly between Castiel's shoulderblades. "It should never have come to this. But it's okay, Cas. lt's okay. I've figured it out. I can fix this. I'll fix things, okay? You won't have to live like this anymore."

"It's so good to see you, Sam." Pulling back, he can see Sam's face now, haloed by the glimmering lights. "Wish you could see the pretty lights." He takes those dimpled cheeks in his hands. "They're so beautiful, so beautiful like you."

He kisses Sam then.

Unexpectedly, Sam kisses back without hesitation. Sam tastes so good though. He wonders why Dean likes pie. None of the pies Cas has tried ever tasted as good as Sam does now. Why does Dean like pie when he could have had Sam? They have to break off — Sam for air and Cas because he's giggling too hard.

"I've missed you, Cas," Sam murmurs, lying down beside him on the cot. "What's so funny?"

"I'm always happy like this. And I like kissing you, Sam. lt's very good." Sam's cheeks grow warmer against his palms. "I want you, Sam. We should... share perception~ Can I have you?"

Sam covers his hands with those larger ones and smiles. "You've always had me, Cas. Always. From the moment you first took my hand."

Cas presses their lips together again and slides his hands under the hunter's shirt. Sam welcomes him, and Cas thinks Sam has ruined him for life, even for orgies.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Cas is woken by sunlight in his eyes and the sound of gunshots from the firing range where they train. Maybe he should take a hit of this before sleeping every night. He'd had the sweetest dream.

He sits up. There's something in his hand.

He smoothens out the rumpled piece of paper, and his heart sinks.

lt's Sam's handwriting. _Don't tell Dean I came. I love you._

Oh.

_Oh Sam._

For the first time since he lost the last of his Grace, Castiel begins to cry.


	8. White Boxers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Cas at the laundromat. A hungry Cas wants a distraction. Sam obliges.
> 
> Please [click here](http://weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309404005163898673172&mod=zwenzhang) for the Chinese translation by tszman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, all I can think of when I see [this picture](http://25.media.tumblr.com/447be8f7ec6fb6400a48709aa55bfe6b/tumblr_msvz14GeAM1rgwciqo1_500.jpg) is Sastiel porn, okay? I have no excuse. Enjoy!

Castiel frowns as he puts his socks into the washing machine. He should put his underwear in too, but that would require undressing completely, and he’d heard one could get arrested for doing that in a public place like this laundromat, deserted though it is at three in the morning.

“Why don’t you put your boxers in too?” Sam comes over with the bottle of detergent. “You can wear my shirt for now.” He sets it down on the next washer, removes his jacket and then his shirt, handing Castiel the shirt before putting his jacket back on.

Castiel takes it and puts it on. It smells of Sam, earthy and spicy, familiar. He removes his boxers and puts it in with the rest of his clothes. Sam pours in a cap of detergent and closes the washer, starting it.

“And now we wait.”

Castiel nods, looking down at Sam’s blue plaid shirt. It reaches to his knees and feels nice and soft on his skin. “Thank you.”

Sam smiles. “It matches your eyes,” he murmurs, ducking his head. Dean would roll his eyes and say he was saying all that girly stuff again, but it really does, and the corners of Castiel’s mouth quirk up a little, so that’s okay.

Suddenly, there’s a strange sound.

Castiel blushes. “Um. I think I’m hungry.”

Sam can’t help chuckling a little. “We could order pizza.” Pizzerias open late.

“Like in that movie?”

It takes a moment for him to make the connection, and then it’s his turn to redden. “Uh. N—Not really like that.”

But now all he can think of is the lean and muscular form beneath his shirt that makes it look like Cas spent the night in his bed, and he swallows thickly. Cas is gorgeous. He’d never realized. It had always been hidden under that trench coat, but standing there earlier in nothing but a pair of white boxers that left little to the imagination… Quickly, he takes his cell phone out before his mind can continue along its train of thought, but Cas covers his hand to stop him, and when did the former angel get so close?

“I probably shouldn’t be seen like this. Won’t I get arrested for indecency?”

“Not by the pizza man,” Sam assures him.

“He’d slap my rear instead?” Cas asks, and alarmed, Sam looks up to check if Cas is really doing what he thinks Cas is doing, and the hint of a grin suggests that, yes, Cas really is flirting with him.

 _Oh._ Oh God.

“I—I don’t think—”

“Humans don’t feel hungry when aroused, do they?” Cas steps in a little closer, tilting his head up. “You could distract me while we wait for the laundry.”

And Sam leans in a bit; he can’t resist. Blue eyes fall shut.

God, Cas is serious about this.

So he closes the distance between them, just a chaste brush of the lips first, but then Cas shifts forward for more, parting his lips and resting his hands on Sam’s waist, and Sam doesn’t wait any longer, just tilts his head and plunders Castiel’s mouth like he’s always wanted. It takes a few tries before Cas figures out how to kinda kiss back, but when he does, Sam wraps long arms around him in a tight hug, and oh, Cas is already hard too.

Slowly, he backs the former angel into the nearest wall, lifts him a little so their erections are pressed together, and Cas makes a soft sound of pleasure, instinctively wrapping his legs around Sam’s waist and his arms around Sam’s shoulders to hold on. Sam runs his hands up surprisingly muscular thighs to cup and squeeze that perfectly rounded ass, and the whimper that escapes the other makes him brush his fingertips experimentally up the crease of Castiel’s ass.

Cas cries out, hips jerking and back arching, head pressed back into the wall and eyes half-lidded, and Sam obligingly traces his entrance with a finger as he trails kisses down Castiel’s exposed neck and unbuttons the shirt with his right hand.

The soft fabric falls away to reveal the well-toned torso he’d seen earlier, and Sam dips his head a little lower to suck on a pert nipple. Cas keens, and God, he’s so beautiful, skin flushed and cock glistening, and from the desperate little sounds he makes whenever Sam presses in a little, he’ll probably come untouched with a bit of fingering.

But they have no lube, and the last thing Sam wants is to hurt his angel. This is probably Castiel’s first time as a human, and he wants… He wants to see Cas really come undone.

In a swift motion, he spins them around, kissing Cas again, and sets the other down atop the still running washer with knees wide apart. Cas whimpers into the kiss as the vibrations thrum into his balls and shifts to feel it better.

“God, Cascas _cas,_ ” he murmurs, holding the other to him tightly.

Breaking off, he mouths his way down that perfect torso, and he knows it’s the vessel, but in his mind, he thinks Castiel can only be more beautiful, and he hopes that someday, he’ll have the chance to see it. God, he _wants._

He drops his head and takes Cas into his mouth.

“S—Sam!”

He doesn’t answer, just sucks and swallows his angel deeper, and Castiel’s hands fist in his hair to a sharp gasp. The washing machine rattles beneath them, jerking his finger into Castiel’s hole, and Cas moans in a way that has Sam undoing his own pants to fist his own cock roughly.

“Ah, Sam—” Cas tries again, but Sam hums in reply, and Cas cries out sharply, coming down his throat in hot spurts. “Sam,” he gasps, his voice utterly wrecked, and that’s all it takes to make Sam’s vision white out as he spills over his own hand.

Cas lifts his head, and Sam goes along with it, lets Cas kiss him again, slow this time, lingering. The washer shudders and stops, falling silent as they part.

Then Castiel’s stomach rumbles again.

The former angel ducks his head, embarrassed, as Sam chuckles.

“U—Um. It’s done now, isn’t it?” Cas asks, sliding off the machine into Sam’s arms.

“Well, it still has to go into the dryer,” Sam replies, holding Cas close with one arm while lifting the lid with the other.

Cas turns, frowning. “How long will that take?”

“Uh… At least another half hour,” he answers sheepishly, and Castiel’s frown deepens.

“This is most inconvenient.”

Sam looks around, wondering if there’s anything he can do, then spies a vending machine in a corner. “Well, if you’d rather not call for pizza here, we could always grab some snacks while we wait and get an early breakfast after,” he suggests, tilting his head to indicate the machine.

Mollified, Cas agrees, “Mm,” and leans on Sam to rest his head contentedly on Sam’s shoulder as he fixes his clothes.

And there are so many questions Sam wants to ask, so many answers he needs, but he just fixes his own clothes and leads Cas over to the vending machine to pick out a snack.

He’s already waited a lifetime. He can wait a little longer.


	9. Right Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end s09e03 (I'm No Angel), Cas tries to leave discreetly in the early hours of the morning only to run into Sam.
> 
> Please [click here](http://weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309404005420686536533&mod=zwenzhang) for the Chinese translation by tszman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: SPOILERS. I JUST NEEDED THIS.

It’s barely dawn when Sam heads for his morning run and bumps into Cas, fully dressed and with a knapsack, on his way out the door.

"Cas?"

"Sam." He turns, a small smile on his face.

"Where are you headed so early?"

Cas looks away. “I… I can’t stay, Sam.”

Sam blinks, his face a mask of incomprehension. “What? Why?”

Shifting the bag on his shoulder, Cas explains, “They’re looking for me, Sam. They found me before. If they find me again here…”

"Then what?" Sam challenges. "This bunker, it’s the most defensible place we know. If you’re not safe here, you’re not safe anywhere." He takes Cas by the shoulders, eyes pleading. "You can’t go back out there, Cas."

"Sam? Cas?" It’s Dean, shuffling out in his robe and slippers.

Sam turns. “It’s Cas, Dean. He’s leaving. You know we can’t let him back out there.” He looks expectantly at Dean for back up because Cas tends to listen to Dean.

To his surprise, Dean doesn’t meet his eyes. "He's right, Sam. He can't stay."

"Seriously?" He looks from Dean's awkward face to Castiel's wistful expression. Cas turns to leave, but Sam doesn't let go. "Dean. We almost lost him just yesterday. You can't send him back out there, Dean. You can't."

"Look, I don't like this any more than you do, all right? But if he stays, all those angels," Dean gestures expansively, "are going to come looking, and we can't stand against an incursion, Sam."

"I know that, Dean. I know that. But it's _Cas._ " He shifts his hold to grip Castiel's hand and lace their fingers. "You said so yourself: you, me, Kevin and Cas, we're all we've got in this world now."

"You're not hearing me, Sam. If Cas stays, you die. Maybe we all die."

"No, I hear you, Dean. I do. But we're in this together. We'll figure something out, Dean, like we always do, but I won't let you send Cas out there alone."

Suddenly, Sam's eyes glow blue, and his posture shifts. "I'm sorry, Dean," he says, but it doesn't sound like Sam, and Cas has heard that precise manner of speech before. A long, long time ago.

"No!" Dean reaches for not-Sam. "Zeke, wait. Wait!"

But Sam's body glows, and the light flows out of him. Cas gasps in shock. Because Ezekiel. Oh. _Oh._

When the light fades, Sam staggers back, and Cas quickly moves to catch him.

"Sammy!" Dean rushes to his brother's side to help hold him up. "Sammy?"

"I'm fine." Sam waves weakly as they lower him to the floor. "I'm just...really dizzy all of a sudden."

Looking at Dean's anguished face, Cas suddenly understands, and he shifts his hold to cradle Sam in his arms, close to his heart.

"Don't leave, Cas." Sam reaches up to touch Castiel's face, brush away the tears with his fingertips. It's a strange sight. He's never seen Cas cry before. "Promise me."

"Of course." Cas smiles reassuringly. "Never, Sam. I'll be right here with you."

Sam smiles up at him, then turns to Dean. "Don't make Cas leave, okay?"

Dean forces a smile and nods. "Okay, Sammy, okay. We're all gonna be right here when you wake up, okay?"

Sam nods and closes his eyes, and Cas just tightens his hold on the younger man. He's never felt so sad before. Not even when the angels Fell.


	10. Silken Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wakes up after Gadreel is expelled and finds out what happened. Castiel comforts him.  
> Then they find Dean's lacy silk panties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Secret Santa](www.tumblr.com/tagged/sassysanta2013) fic for [Alex](http://maudlin-memoirs.tumblr.com/)

Sam wakes with his head in Castiel's lap, gentle fingers carding through his hair.

"Cas?" He tries to sit up, but the other hushes him and holds him down. "You're an angel again," he whispers, voice awed and reverent.

Castiel smiles, ethereal blue eyes tender. Even the trenchcoat is back. They’re in the bunker, in Dean’s room. He doesn’t remember…

“When did you get here? How did you get your Grace back?”

The fingers still. “Some days back. And it’s not mine exactly.”

_Some days back?_ “I’ve lost time again, haven’t I? Cas,” he grips the angel’s elbow urgently. “What’s wrong with me?”

Castiel shakes his head. “Nothing is wrong with you, Sam. Not anymore.”

“Not any—” Sam sits up, fights a bone-deep exhaustion he hasn't felt in months. This time, the angel doesn’t stop him. “What happened, Cas? I—I know Dean’s hiding something from me. Who's Zeke?”

“Sam.” Castiel won’t look at him.

“Cas, please.”

Blue eyes are sad when they meet his. “It’s better for you not to remember.” Sam doesn't need this pain, this _guilt_.

“No. I have the right to know, Cas. You can’t make me run from this.”

The angel sighs, conflicted. Sam is right, and Dean's worries are misplaced. The younger Winchester could handle even Lucifer in his head, and yet... Sam never stopped seeking redemption, but he also never forgave himself. “Sam.” He deserves better, always has. Castiel closes his eyes. “Please.”

The other’s hands fist in the sheets. “Cas, I—”

He relents. He owes Sam that respect. “Come here.”

Sam goes, lets the angel shift them so they’re stretched out on the bed. To be honest, he’s afraid. He’s afraid of how terrible the truth must be for even Cas to hesitate. “Thank you,” he whispers. For the honesty, for the security. Cas will always be the only angel he’ll ever need.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” Castiel murmurs, holding Sam close. “It's best if I just show you.” Two fingers are pressed to his brow, and he gasps.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“No. No, no, no, no.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel apologizes because he doesn't know what else he can do.

Sam tries to pull away, but Castiel doesn't let him go. He doesn't struggle, just sags like all the strength has left his body, trembling. Castiel rubs soothing circles into Sam's scalp, heals what he can again. Gadreel was not lying about Sam's condition. It's as if he cannot heal the human completely. He has been working on it for days now.

"Why didn't you just let me die?" Sam mumbles, and it's not directed at him, he knows.

Castiel sighs. "You know why."

"I should have finished the Trials."

He doesn't want that, but he doesn't know what to say.

"Then Kevin would still—"

"You don't know that," he interjects.

"If we'd never found the Tablets—"

"This world would be lost to the Leviathans. It is I who should never have opened Purgatory."

"Then the Apocalypse would have happened, none of us would be here, and where would that leave Kevin? This isn't about you, Cas. He helped us time and time again. We were supposed to protect him. Instead, we got rid of all the archangels, his girlfriend is dead because of us, I left him to Crowley for a year, we let his mom die, now I've killed him, and we let Crowley walk?"

"That wasn't you, Sam."

"It was my body. I could have fought Gadreel like I fought Lucifer."

"Not after the sigil. It's not your fault. If I'd done what I had to earlier, I would have known when I saw you. I'm sorry."

“Cas—”

“Sam.”

“He was just a kid,” Sam sobs.

"You're not that much older than he is."

In spite of it all, Sam chuckles through the tears. "A decade is a pretty long time for us, Cas." He shakes his head. "How can you even stand being around me?"

"Will you pretend even now that I have not made my share of mistakes? You've done more than your share of penance. Not even that recourse is available to me, and I have destroyed so much in my vanity. It is not your soul that is tainted, Sam. Those are not your sins to bear."

No answer is forthcoming, and he doesn't think Sam is consoled by anything he's said. Kevin is still gone.

"It's better where he is," he tries. The pillow is soaked, as is the collar of his coat.

"Is it? We don't even know if he'll see his mom and girlfriend again."

"We can only hope he has many happy memories," he concedes, wondering how he can ease the human's suffering. Even with Grace, he feels so powerless. He can't heal Sam completely, can't even comfort him.

Sam sighs, drained. "Memories are just that, Cas. The people in them aren't really there. Even if I'd see you there in my memories, it wouldn't be the same as being here with you."

“Sam...”

It could just be an example, but with Sam, everything feels so real, so sincere. Sam always looks at him with such reverence and affection. But there’s this smile sometimes. He’s not too sure what it means. But it feels like some mixture of approval, fondness and amusement, and it made him a little giddy with happiness — everything felt so vivid as a human. He keeps wanting to see it again, even now, can’t forget the feeling.

"C—"

He covers Sam's lips with his own. Sam responds almost immediately, like he'd always been waiting for this, and it's better. Better than with April, better than he'd imagined. Where Meg had an alluring darkness, Sam has a beautiful light.

To think he'd almost snuffed it out.

"I almost killed you," he whispers, pained, forehead pressed to Sam's. "Yet how easily do you forgive me."

Sam laughs, self-deprecating. "You forget that I stabbed you. I think we can call it even."

Before he can make things worse, he kisses Sam again. Sam wraps long arms around him, and he twines their legs to press closer when his foot snags something under the sheets. It’s small and smooth, and he tugs it out with his toes.

“What’s this?” he muses, lifting it.

Sam sits up to look and grimaces. “Ew, Dean, you are disgusting.”

It’s a piece of hot pink women’s underwear, silk and lacy. “The only DNA on it is Dean’s,” he finds, and Sam turns to him with a frown he’s learned means, “That doesn’t make it any better.”

Sam’s face falls though — the thought of Dean makes him sad and angry. Castiel sets the garment aside and pulls Sam back down, resumes massaging his scalp and combing his hair with strong fingers.

"You haven't stopped touching my hair today," Sam observes, relaxing into him.

"Your hair is nice, soft, silky. Should I stop?" Remembering an oft-made suggestion, he adds, “Should I braid it?”

Sam laughs, this time with genuine mirth, and shakes his head, snuggling closer. Castiel smiles. He’s glad to be able to cheer Sam up, however briefly. The human always understands, without any explanations, without any words. Castiel wishes he could too.

Then maybe he could make Sam happy.

He cradles Sam close, pressing a kiss to the other’s forehead, and can’t help glancing at the panties on the nightstand. Absently, he wonders if Sam shares his brother’s interests.

Sam catches him staring at it and grins. “Would you like to try them?”

He's not sure if Sam's just teasing. "Um..." Or why, after thousands of years spent watching humanity, the thought makes him shy.

The other's brow suddenly creases. "Hey, I was just—"

"Would it make you happy?"

Bloodshot eyes blink, then brim with tenderness. "You always make me happy, Cas. You never had to try."

Castiel mirrors the earlier grin then, running the pads of his thumbs lightly over the other's eyelids and taking the puffiness away. "When you're better," he promises, unable to smother the bit of a giggle.

But Sam sighs, suddenly resigned and sad once more. "I won't get better, will I?"

"Sam—"

"Let me go, Cas. Dean keeps trying to prevent the inevitable, and all it brings is tragedy."

"Don't say that, Sam."

"He sold his soul to bring me back, Cas. That's what started all this. Will you keep helping him p—"

"This isn't about Dean!" he interrupts with a vehemence that surprises even him. More quietly, he adds, "He and you have a place together. Time will reunite you. But I may never find you again."

"Cas..." Sam cups Castiel's cheek, floored. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "I won't ask that of you again." He feels honoured, unworthy, to be even one important moment in the angel's eternity, but for Cas to want more...

Castiel covers his hand with his own. "You _will_ get better, Sam."

He nods. "Okay."

"It'll take some time, but I won't give up."

"How long have you been trying?"

"Since we expelled Gadreel," Castiel admits, looking down. "I'm beginning to wonder if he was right, if the only way to do it completely is from the inside."

Sam tenses, and Castiel shakes his head.

"I wouldn't ask that of you." Sam has already been possessed too many times.

"But I'd say yes to you," Sam confesses hurriedly, barely audible. He doesn't want Cas to misunderstand. "Only you."

Their eyes meet, and Castiel smiles. "I worry once I've held your soul that close to my true form that I won't want to leave."

In truth, Sam is worried Cas will find him sullied, spoiled. But he doesn't say that. It's enough to be just one blip, to have Castiel's hands in his hair now, to have his angel’s love even fleetingly. Instead, he tries for playful, lacing their fingers. "Doesn't that mean I'll be the one trying those panties?"

Castiel laughs, lips ghosting over his own. "You'll be so hot."


	11. Resonance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember that Knight Rider scene from Changing Channels? Well, we only saw the second half of it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because we all need some Impala!Sam/Wavelength!Cas fic, amirite? Right? Ahem. Happy birthday, Sam! ♥

Dean drives out of the motel parking lot and turns onto the highway. For one, there’s not much sense in staying. But mostly, he drives because he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s seen all kinds of crazy, but _this._ This is…

“Dean?”

His first impulse is to tell Sam to stop talking, so he doesn’t have to think about it. His Sammy and his Baby… He shudders. He’s _inside_ his baby brother. It’s… a whole new level of bad touch, and he’s not entirely sure Sammy will win the contest of who feels more violated.

“Yeah?”

Briefly, he entertains the thought that this might be permanent, that every time he pops the hood to tune his Baby up, he might be… Nope, he needs to quit this train of thought.

“Could you, uh… stop squirming? It feels kinda weird.”

The red lights flash in time with Sam’s words, and he tries not to think about how checking his Baby’s suspension will mean he needs to get _under_ Sam. He bites his lip and shifts in his seat — he can’t help it. The thought won’t leave him alone.

A burst of static comes on the radio suddenly.

“Sam? Sammy?” _Don’t be having any problems now, come on. I don’t wanna have to—_

“Dean.” An entirely different voice, deeper, still interspersed by static. “Dean, can you hear me?”

“Cas?!” Finally, something else he can focus on, never mind his _car_ —brother, Baby, Sammy— had just made the exact same exclamation with twice as much concern. “Cas, where are you?”

More static, then, “I… I don’t know. It looks like Earth, but the pyramids are collapsing, and there are no angels here. No one knows what's happening.”

“Sounds like a pretty good place to me.” No Michael-Lucifer prizefight, no end of the world.

“Dean,” the red lights flash. “Is he using my—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he cuts in quickly. _I don’t wanna know._

“Sam? Is that—? Are you—?”

“Oh!” Sam —the car— gasps and jerks a little.

"Sammy?!"

"Sorry." It's Cas, and he sounds sheepish, awkward, like he just did something Dean does _not_ want to know about.

"Cas, we're going to figure out how to get you back, okay?" Sam's voice, even synthesized and over the radio, sounds full of wonder, a little breathless, and Dean _really_ does not want to know.

"I'm fine, Sam. More importantly, why are you…?" He seems to struggle to continue. “You feel incorporeal,” is what he settles for at last.

“Ngh, C—Cas!”

“Sorry. I mean… I can sense you… almost like another angel when we’re not in physical form.”

“That douchebag Trickster turned Sammy here into my Baby,” Dean grouses vehemently because, yes, he should focus on the anger and definitely not on the mental images he’s getting of his baby brother and their angel. And if he’s drowning out their bizarre wavelength cyber too, so much the better.

“About that, Dean, it’s n—”

Static crackles, long and loud, drowning out the angel’s voice, and then silence.

“Cas? Cas!” Dean slams his hands on the wheel. “Damn it!”

“Ow!”

“Oops,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

They need to fix Sam. He can’t handle this. KITT was way cool, but he’s pretty sure Knight Rider wasn’t brothers with his car. Not even David Hasselhoff could make that less disturbing.

“Okay, so stake didn’t work. So, what, this is another trick?”

They’re alone again — no static, no Cas, just Sam answering, “I don't know. Maybe the stake didn't work because it's not a trickster?”

Very helpful. “What do you mean?”

The side mirrors twitch. Was that a shrug? “You heard Cas. He said this thing was too powerful to be a trickster.”

Come to think of it, “And did you notice the way he looked at Cas? Almost like he knew him.”

“And how pissed he got when you brought up Michael and Lucifer.”

Wait a minute… “Son of a bitch.” He’s seen that look before. In the mirror. Every night for three wretched years not too long ago.

“What?”

He drives off the highway into a clearing on the side. “I think I know what we're dealing with.”

~*~*~*~

Dean starts up the engine and reverses to face the gate, but Cas is still standing at the warehouse door, pensive.

“Wait, Dean. Wait.” Sam winds down the window and leans out. “Hey, Cas.”

The angel obligingly walks closer. “Sam. I’m glad you’re… uh, back to yourself.”

Sam chuckles, looking down. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.” An awkward silence follows, and Sam doesn’t know how to broach what he really wants to talk about because it’s way too embarrassing, and Cas is just… Cas. It feels like some kind of perversion just thinking about it. So “What are you going to do?” he asks instead.

“Keep looking,” Cas decides, but he looks tired, like all he really wants is to throw in the towel and resign himself to all the shit that’s going down. He can’t, of course; he knows he can’t. He’s made his choice.

Sam nods. He starts to reach out, but stops himself. “So I’ll uh… see you around?” Maybe he sounded too hopeful, too much like he meant ‘tonight’ instead of ‘around.’ He hopes Cas doesn’t get the wrong idea. Or the right one. Maybe.

To his surprise, Cas takes his hand. “Of course.” The barest smile curves the angel’s lips, the first he’s seen in a long time.

It takes his breath away. Just like the first time.

“Okay.” He squeezes the hand in his lightly. “Okay.” It’s warm, soft. “Take care, okay?” He lets go before it gets too weird, leaning back in his seat. It’s nice to be back inside the car instead of _inside_ the car, but now, Cas can’t do that again. Not that he would, would he? “We’ll keep searching too.”

“I will, Sam. You too.”

With a last wave, Dean drives off, and he winds up the window. Yeah, with all that’s going on, he wouldn’t mind being back in TV land with Dean and Cas. Ironic, after all the trouble they went to to get out.

As Dean turns back out onto the highway, Sam feels the barest rush of air over his hands. Suddenly, he’s holding a piece of paper. He looks at it, and it makes him giddy.

In perfectly calligraphed script, handwriting he’d recognize anywhere, it simply reads YES.


	12. They Don't Make This At Honeydukes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared finds some candy in his trailer. It has some interesting effects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this is actually the plot of a game I'm playing, and I thought it'd be funny.
> 
> Established Mishalecki; nipple play, rimming, pwp, dubcon for "drugged" sex; un-beta-ed. It is probably as trashy as the game that inspired it.
> 
> Merry Christmas, everyone! ♥

"Hey, look what I got?"

Misha looks up from his copy of the next episode's script as Jared approaches, a small bag of candy in his hands. They look to be gummies in assorted shapes.

"Candy?"

"Yup. Found it on my table today. It doesn't say whom it's from."

He inspects the red and gold bag as Jared drops onto the couch beside him. All the text on it is entirely in French.

"Probably Sebastian."

Jared shrugs as he unties the gold ribbon holding it closed. "Why would Sebastian give me candy?"

Misha shrugs as well, returning his attention to the script. "A Christmas present?"

"Ack." A slip of pink paper falls out of the bag as it opens, and Jared bends to pick it up. "Consume with a loved one," he reads. It's printed in gold calligraphy. "Well, you count." He wraps an arm around Misha and pecks him on the cheek. "Have one?"

"Nah," Misha replies though he snuggles close. "Candy is your thing, not mine."

Shrugging again, Jared pops one into his mouth. "Oh." It's like an odd combination of cream, apple, chocolate and caramel, but it's quite good.

"You like?"

"Yeah... It's weirdly good."

Misha grins. "That's good."

Suddenly, Jared drops the candy, hands flying to his head. "Nngh..."

"Jared?" Misha drops the script, turning worriedly to his lover. "Are you okay?" Maybe he should call an ambulance. Or Poison Control.

"Misha..." Abruptly, Jared flops forward onto him, pinning him to the couch beneath the Texan's larger frame. Glancing up in alarm, he finds blue-green eyes a little dazed, dilated. "Mm, you need a Christmas present too... Let me be your _special_ Santa~" He rocks his hips into Misha's.

"Wh—what?" Misha blinks, confused by this sudden turn of events.

Large hands slip under his shirt to trace the waistband of his jeans. "I'll tie you up ju~st like a present box."

"O...kay..." He slides out from under Jared to the floor and scrambles to the door. Whatever this is, they probably shouldn't be seen at it. He slams his trailer door shut and locks it.

"My Misha~"

Jared is suddenly behind him, impossibly fast for someone who'd been falling over groggily just moments ago. Strong hands pull his hips back, so he can feel the hard length of Jared's cock pressing into the crack of his ass, then snake up under his shirt to toy with his nipples.

Fuck, he moans as blood rushes down, leaning on the door for support. Jared knows exactly how to turn him into a wanton mess in seconds.

The other mouths up his neck to nibble on his earlobe, big fingers alternating between tracing his areolae and flicking his perked nipples. "You like this, don't you?" Jared purrs into his ear, rolling his nipples between both thumbs and forefingers. "You want it so badly back here."

Misha bites back a loud keen. He's rocking his hips back into Jared's with every twist of those expert fingers, and his briefs feel uncomfortably wet and tight.

"Take them off?" Jared suggests as if reading his mind, and he's impossibly glad to have been wearing a T-shirt even as he tosses it aside — he doesn't think he could have managed buttons with the way Jared is strumming the sensitive nubs now. The last time Jared sucked and nibbled on them, he came untouched in his pants.

He cries out as Jared pinches one while he's fumbling with his belt buckle, and he can't remove the rest of his clothes fast enough. The sudden cold air makes him hiss when they're strewn about the floor, but then Jared is lifting him up for kiss, and it's warm.

This, he likes. A lot, but differently. Jared always says Misha is the better kisser (only privately between them, of course), but that's because Misha enjoys kissing. It feels intimate, loving, more so than anything else they do, and it's easy to get caught up in it as their tongues intertwine, easy to let Jared carry him to a chair and bind his hands behind his back on it.

"W—wait, Jare," he gasps, breaking the kiss as reality catches up. "What are you doing?"

"Tying you up like a present box?" The other's tone is patient, teasing. "I promise you'll like it when I open you up."

Misha opens his mouth to protest, then changes his mind. He's nothing if not adventurous, and the double entendre sounds tantalizing. So he lets Jared wind the green rope from a previous scene around him, tie his torso to the back of the chair, and lift his knees to hook them over the arms of the chair and tie them in place. Then Jared takes the piece of gold ribbon from the candy bag and slides it from side to side up from the base of Misha's cock, and Misha whines when it slips across the sensitive area just below the head, more precum leaking from his tip. Jared laps it up as he ties a bow over the ridge, constricting but not too tight, but Jared's tongue only coaxes more out of the slit there. The younger man leans back, admiring his handiwork.

"There, all green, red and gold, just like a Christmas present."

Misha's skin is flushed, glistening with arousal, and he's so glad they won't be filming till tomorrow.

"And there's somewhere else you'd like me to lick more, isn't there?"

"F—fuck," he groans — the thought is enough to leave him trembling with the effort of not coming right there and then. "Jared—ah!"

Jared's tongue traces his entrance, wet and teasing, and he wants. He wants Jared inside him, but he doesn't think he'll last if Jared keeps this up. Soft long hair tickles his inner thighs, Jared's face is buried in his balls, nose nuzzling his perineum, and the pressure is too much.

"Too much..." he breathes, and then Jared presses in.

_Shit._

He comes, helpless, orgasm hitting like a bolt of lighting, searing, blinding and all-consuming.

Jared just leans back, watching, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Bad Misha," he murmurs, waving a long finger imperiously. "Bad, bad Misha." He taps the head of Misha's cock where the golden bow is, and Misha whimpers as he spills a little more. "Whatever shall I do about you?"

Oh. Oh no. At this rate, they really will be at this till tomorrow.

Then suddenly, Jared falls over backward.

What the— "Hey."

No response.

"Jare?"

Oh God. Surely, _surely_ , Jared wouldn't make him call an ambulance _now_. Like _this_. The media, their publicists, their agencies, the show runners... They're going to be _killed_. Never mind he's not terribly sure how he's going to reach the phone in this state.

Misha swallows thickly and takes a deep breath to calm himself before trying again. "Jared? Jared. Jared Tristan Padalecki, this isn't funny. Don't you dare do this to me, young man. I sw—"

"Ow, ow, ow..."

Just as suddenly, Jared sits up, rubbing his head.

"Huh? What was I d—hm?" He seems to notice the situation just then and breaks out into a wide grin. "Ooh... How'd you end up like this? Not that I'm complaining, y'know. It's a great view from here."

Misha gapes. "How d—"

Hang on. He turns to the couch as realization dawns, to the bag of mysterious French candy sitting innocuously on his coffee table.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

Jared follows his gaze and inhales sharply, seeming to catch on. "Hey, that's right! Everything's kinda hazy after I had that candy. You think it's drugged?"

Honestly, he's not sure there's a drug that works quite like that.

"Cursed?"

That's even more ridiculous. This isn't the show.

"Well, whatever." Jared laughs mischievously, clambering over to grab the bag. "Shall I have another one?"

Misha stares at his co-star. "Are you crazy? We were just talking about it being drugged or cursed or something!"

The other shrugs, ambling back with it in hand. "Well, if the only thing I do under its influence is tie you up and have sex with you, it's probably safer than alcohol."

"What? No, that's not the point."

"Oh! Here's an idea," he adds brightly. "Why don't you have one?"

"No." Misha shakes his head in horror. "No. Absolutely not."

"All right." Jared kneels before him with that shit-eating grin that spells trouble, trouble, trouble. "We'll both have one."

"Wha—"

But Jared's popped one into Misha's mouth and clamped his hand over Misha's lips to keep him from spitting it out, and now Jared's eating one more himself, and yes, all right, it's quite delicious, and far be it from him to complain about kinky sex with the usually vanilla Jared, but—

Oh God. Oh no.

"Nngh..."

The world goes dark.


	13. A Song That Only We Can Hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early s10, Dean is missing, Cas is far, far away, and Sam is alone in the bunker.  
> Needing a break and missing Cas, Sam plugs in for some fantasizing.  
> And then Cas calls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday, I went through a certain tag on this site (I'm not going to tell you which, so feel free to guess from among those below) and discovered, to my utter horror, that there was no Sastiel. I have remedied this. Happy (early) New Year, everyone! ♥
> 
> Masturbation, phone sex, nipple play, sex toy, multiple orgasm, a bit of voice kink, pwp.

It feels wrong, Sam thinks, to be using a gift from Dean right now when his brother is nowhere to be found. His brother who is supposed to be dead, but has instead run off, leaving a note. His brother who has done such a great job at disappearing that he still doesn't have any leads.

But he's tired. And stressed. And all he can do now is wait for something, anything, to turn up.

He needs a break.

And Cas is... Cas is somewhere far away, helping the angels.

Sam gets it. He does. But that doesn't mean he doesn't miss him.

So he opens himself up —the lube is warm and tingly— and imagines it's his angel's gentle, rounded fingers that caress his entrance instead of his own, that press in and pull out again, taking it slow, always so careful not to hurt him. Again, a little deeper now, and fuck, but he's getting hard from just this.

"Cas..." he moans, picturing that gentle smile, the longing mirrored in blue eyes, the feel of his lover's kiss in his mind. "Nngh..."

He's in now, and even this pressure on his prostate feels so good, so _needed_ — it's been so long now. He crooks his fingers — "Ah! Cascascas..." And he's loose enough now, he thinks as he coats it in lube, just enough to feel a hint of stretch as it goes in, and "Ahhhnnn..." He could almost imagine it's Cas sliding in, whispering words of comfort in his ear in that deep, sexy voice of his (and just like that, he's fully erect), resonant with Grace.

 _Fuck._ His insides clench with desire, and the pressure, the fullness, makes the first few drops of precum leak into the condom. He probably won't last long.

But it's in all the way now, so he plugs it in, puts in his earbuds, and switches to that playlist of "mood music" he's been planning to put on the next time Cas visits and turns it on.

"Hah..." He lets out a shaky breath as it starts thrumming to the music, whimpers as the beat starts up, and pleasure sings up his spine.

He has to admit that this audio vibrator is one of the best presents Dean has ever gotten him, never mind the implied slight on his sex life.

"C—Cas..." he moans again as he takes his cock in his lube-covered hand like his angel would, and—

"A— _ah!!_ "

An intense pulse takes him by surprise, and he's barely come down from the sudden edge when he realizes it's his ring tone. Gasping for breath, he scrambles to answer it before it can ring again.

It's Cas.

_It's Cas._

_Oh God._

He swallows thickly as he picks up, schools his voice and breathing into some normalcy. "Hey Cas."

"Hello Sam."

 _Oh fuck._ He bites back a whimper.

He'd forgotten it works on call audio too.

"Sam?"

"Y—yeah. Sorry. I'm here." He needs to— He needs to turn it off.

"Are you... Are you busy?"

"No!" Oops, too high, too much like the cry of pleasure it almost was. He clears his throat away from the phone and tries again. "No, just... listening to some music."

It's true, kinda, and less embarrassing than explaining to Cas that he's naked on his bed, touching himself with an audio vibrator up his ass to mood music and thoughts of said angel.

"Oh, good, I—"

 _CLACK._  "Ha—haaahhhn!!" The phone on the other side drops to the floor, presumably, with a loud clatter just as he'd fumbled for the Off button, and his hands ended up fisted in the sheets at the sudden jolt of pleasure.

"Ack, sorry, sorry. I dropped the phone. Trying to... Trying to get a drink here."

"I—it's fine."

"Sam? Are you all right? You sound... rather breathless."

"I'm fine, Cas. Don't worry. Just..." He reaches back to look for the Off button again. "I've missed you," he tries for a distraction.

There's a pause, then... "You're using it."

For a moment, he thinks to ask "What it?" but then remembers that Cas was there when Dean gave it to him and knows all about it and has probably put two and two together from the way the call has gone so far.

"Yes," he admits in a small voice, face burning with shame, but it doesn't feel right lying to the angel.

Before he can say anything in his defense, "It works when I talk over the phone like this too?" Cas asks.

"Y—yeah. Hold on, I've been trying to turn it off. Just let me find the switch and—"

"No. Leave it, Sam. Please."

His hand freezes.

"I've missed you too. I wish I could be there with you. Let me hear you?"

Oh. Oh God. Oh God yes. _Yesyesyes._

"Sam?"

He places the phone by his head on the pillow and turns his head to face it, so the microphone is near his mouth. "Tell me what to do, Cas. Tell me what you'd do to me if you were here right now."

"I'd..."

He waits as Cas thinks. Patiently, trembling with anticipation.

"I'd hold you. Close and tight."

Okay, that was... tame. But of course, Cas has never done this before, and he loves the angel so much right now for wanting to try.

"I'd kiss you as I stretch you, then nibble on your ear as I enter."

An improvement, but, "Details, Cas. Go into as much detail as you can. Imagine it."

"O—oh. Um..."

For example, he offers, "I'd kiss you back, Cas. Let my tongue trail along the inside of your bottom lip, suck lightly on yours when you slip in, slide mine along yours as you pull back, let my teeth catch lightly on your bottom lip as we break off."

On the other end of the line, he hears Castiel's breath hitch, and Sam feels rather proud of himself. Just a kiss, and Cas isn't the one with an audio vibrator pressing into his prostate.

"I— I'd take your— your c—cock in my hand and stroke it. R—rough, just as you like it."

He does just that, groans for Cas to hear.

"W—with my other hand, I... I'd cup your— your balls, tug them back gently, hold them away like that."

That deep voice he loves is husky with arousal now, even sexier than it already is, and every word makes the vibrator throb into his sweet spot, makes more precum pool in the condom.

"Hn, I'd thrust into your hand, Cas; I've missed you. I've missed you so much. I—I'm already wet, Cas, ah..."

"I'd... ah... I'd squeeze a bit beneath the head, press my fingers into the ridge there, slide my thumb over your leaking slit at the tip."

"Nngh..." Cas knows that always drives him crazy, and the wetness collected in the latex feels slippery slick as he smears it all over the head of his cock, makes every slide of his thumb smoother, easier, _filthier_. "God, Cas," he gasps, back arching off the mattress. "I need you, I need you. Fuck me, please; I need you inside." Reaching back, he turns up the intensity.

His angel moans, but "No, wait, let go."

"Caaaaas,"he whines even as he obeys. The other doesn't have to know those last four words left him _so close,_  he's trembling.

Silence.

"Cas?"

"I... trail my fingers lightly up your torso. Your skin is glistening with sweat...?"

"Yes," he breathes, chest heaving. Cas is nothing if not a fast learner, and now he's got all that pop culture Metatron put in his head — Sam bets there's some porn in there somewhere.

"It's a little salty when I lick my fingers. Like I remember."

Sam shivers as the vibrator pulsates, moaning around his fingers. God, if Cas so much as breathes on his cock right now—

"With wet fingers, I circle your nipples, featherlight now. Once or twice, I brush against the nub."

"F—fuck." They're sensitive.

Cas once made him come untouched just by licking and nibbling them all night, and they were so sensitized (just this side of sore from the attention) the next day that he could barely focus on the case. Every time he moved, they'd chafe on his shirt, and he didn't know how something so uncomfortable could simultaneously be so arousing, but he'd spent the entire day half hard and glad for once to leave the leg work to Dean. Cas also made it up to him with the most amazing blowjob, the thought of which has him keening at the brink of orgasm.

"Flick them lightly, one after the other."

"Ahn!" Sam cries out as he _almost_ comes. He's fucking air, clenching tight around the vibrator, but it's _just_ shy of enough. "Fuck, Cas, nngh—ahhahhh..." He's _mewling_ now from the pleasure, head thrown back, back arched taut as a bow. Just a little more—

"Sam, if I— If I pinch them, will you come?"

"Yes. Yes, I think— I—I'm so close, Cas, please; I'm clenching, fluttering, so tight around you, Cas; God, I—"

"I pinch and twist—"

"CAS!!!" Orgasm slams into him, and he sees stars behind his eyelids, forgets to breathe for too long, and when the world comes rushing back, he realizes Cas is talking.

"—ing to rock my hips into yours, Sam."

"Harder, Cas," he gasps as the words vibrate inside him. "I'm still hard."

It's true. It's _really_ been too long, and this is— He can't get enough.

"I'd squeeze you. To check." Just at the right place, and Sam's at the edge all over again. "Stroke you—ah! Sam, Sam, I'm— AHHN!!!"

The sharp _jolt_ whites his vision out, and he screams along with Cas as he spills into the condom for the second time that night.

He comes down boneless, sated, more relaxed than he'd been in weeks.

"Sam?"

The thrum makes him wince, reminding him, and he quickly pulls the vibrator out and switches it off.

"Yeah?"

"That was amazing."

In spite of the exhaustion setting in, he laughs breathlessly. "Yeah? I can't wait till you get here to do all that in person."

Silence.

Oh. Oh no. Nervously, Sam adds, "I mean, no pressure or a—"

"I'll try," Cas interrupts with a sigh. "To visit, I mean. I want to be there too." But it's hard now that I don't have wings anymore, he doesn't say. "I want your arms around me now as we fall asleep, want to kiss you awake tomorrow morning and let you salvage my attempt to make us breakfast."

 _Shit._ His eyes are stinging. "Cas, I— I can meet you halfway?"

There's a pause before "But what about—"

"I don't have to stay in the bunker to keep looking." Fat load of good that's done him anyway.

Another pause, then "I'd like that. I'd like that very much. We'll decide on a location in the morning?"

"Yeah." He smiles as he fails to stifle a yawn. "I love you, Cas."

"And I you, Sam. Good night."

"Good night."

And for the first time since Dean vanished, Sam doesn't dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these are un-beta-ed, and I love all kinds of feedback, so do leave some! <3


End file.
